


Day after Thanksgiving

by potofsoup



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, SamSteve Small Gifts, mostly a prolonged conversation about sam in the early 90s and 2000s, nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potofsoup/pseuds/potofsoup
Summary: A SamSteve small gift forsophinisba, wherein it's the morning of the day after Thanksgiving.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35
Collections: SamSteve Small Gifts





	Day after Thanksgiving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/gifts).



> Sophinisba requested either Steve meeting Sam's family or LGBT veterans, but to keep it within 3k words and also not spend months doing research, I cheated a bit and did the space between the two. ^^;;;; 
> 
> Anyways, I'm super out of my depth in this fic, both because writing is something I attempt probably once a year, and because the topics are things that I couldn't properly research within the timeframe (nor the spirit) of the fest. So -- if I misrepresented something, please tell me so that I can fix it! <333

Steve woke to the gentle weight of a shirt landing on his face. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Sam called in a disgustingly pleased sing-song.

Steve grumbled and turned away from all the light and sound of Sam bustling about, and stared muzzily at the posters on the wall of the guest room. “It’s the day after Thanksgiving.” He pulled some blankets into a Sam-shaped pile and attempted to smoosh his face into it.

He feels the bed dip as Sam wandered back to sit beside him. “And you’re a guy who wakes up at 0530 on the regular. Never thought I’d see you sleep in for a full hour.” Sam leaned over and gave Steve a tender peck.

It landed on Steve’s ear and make a loud popping sound. Steve was 95% certain that Sam did it on purpose, and burrowed deeper into the blankets. “I had a big dinner.”

Sam gave Steve’s head a gentle noogie. “Lemme call up all the new outlets: Erskine’s super serum defeated by my ma’s Thanksgiving Turkey.”

“Ha ha.” Steve managed to heave himself up and tug on the shirt. “Sam, your mom made two turkeys and your cousins and uncles brought another three more. There were FIVE TURKEYS. Are your Thanksgivings always like that?” 

Sam shrugged as he started collecting the various articles of clothing strewn around the room. “Well, everyone wanted to meet you, so it was a little bit bigger. Even Uncle Marvin showed up, and he and ma don’t…” Sam paused to throw those clothes into his suitcase. “But I think mostly they just wanted to have something to say when the media finds out we’re together.”

Steve tried to imagine news reporters outside Darlene’s home. At their church. Chasing her down at the grocery store. “Oh god.” Steve laid back down on the too-soft bed and pulled a pillow over his face.

Sam threw another pillow onto him -- probably one of the ones that he threw off the bed last night in the middle of finding lube. “Wait, it didn’t cross your mind until just now?”

“It’s not too late, Sam.” Steve said miserably from behind the pillow. “Pepper scheduled the news conference for the 10th, and right now most people assume that we’re just friends. We can keep it under wraps, cancel the conference…” 

“No.” The pillow was forcefully yanked from him and Steve found himself staring at a particularly ferocious Sam. “I refuse to hide anymore, and my ma knows that. She knew the consequences when I called to tell her about you, and she invited you to Thanksgiving anyway.”

“But…”

“Steve, she raised all of us and kept half the neighborhood kids in line, she’s not gonna be scared away by a couple of reporters.”

Steve chuckled, imagining Darlene staring down the gaggle of reporters the way she glared at an uncooperative casserole dish last night. Sam poked Steve in the ribs. “Exactly. She doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what other people think of her and her opinions, kind of like someone else I know.” Steve laughed at that, then leaned in to kiss Sam. It may be the Thanksgiving dinner, but underneath the toothpaste mintiness, Sam tasted like pumpkin spice -- nutmeg and ginger, with a hint of cinnamon. “You’re amazing, and your family is amazing.”

Sam blushed.

“In fact, the only dork here seems to be you.” Steve stood up and nodded at everything that’s in Sam’s old room -- the poster of Voyager’s golden disc, a handmade mobile of birds of prey, the collection of dice and board games on one shelf, and a few baseball trophies poking out of a box in the corner. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam grumbled, and then shoved Steve’s toiletries at him. “Brush, shower, then pack. We gotta get to DC by noon cause I still have cookies to bake, and Darlene’s not going to let us go without a giant breakfast.”

“Sir yes sir.” Steve drawled and snapped the most non-regulation salute at Sam before hustling into the bathroom.

\- - - - -

They’re halfway through New Jersey before Steve was sufficiently recovered from the breakfast to ask, “So where are we heading, anyway?”

Sam shot him a warm, exasperated glance. “Wait, you just hopped in a car with me without knowing where we’re headed? You do that with any random stranger? Thought you were the world’s greatest tactician.”

“World’s greatest tactician had a big breakfast.” Steve patted his tummy. “And world’s greatest tactician has decided that following his boyfriend is the best tactic in any civilian situation.” For that, Steve got a light jab in the shoulder. 

That lead to a light-hearted slap fight, so it’s another few minutes before Steve said, “But speaking of logistics, why is it so important to make this particular Friendsgiving down in DC? It’s not that I mind the early morning and the hasty goodbyes, but didn’t we already do the VA staff Friendsgiving?”

Sam was quiet. Steve could tell that he was running through something in his head, doing that thing where he turns it around and around until he finds the right way to approach a topic. It’s what made Sam a good counselor, and, when Steve gets a chance to talk to Sam about it -- a good Captain America. In the meantime, Steve snagged one of the snacks that Darlene packed them for the road, and stared out the car window for a while, the monotony of I-95 lulling him into a quiet sort of peace. These all used to be toll roads, before General Eisenhower created the interstate highway system. He rather liked Ike, the guy was pretty down to earth the one time Steve had to go in a collect a medal.

“Steve, when did you know you were bi?”

Steve gave this some thought. “I suppose … when I looked at Sally Hemmings in 7th grade and realized that I wanted her the same way I wanted Bucky.” He paused and flapped his hands vaguely. “Well, not the same way, since I wanted Bucky first, but you know.”

Sam nodded. “I’d had my share of middle school and high school crushes, but it was the early 90s.” Steve ran his mind back to the various books that he’d read to catch up on the 70 years that he lost. Clinton was president, the internet wasn’t widely available, War on Drugs was in full swing. But Sam was probably referring to something cultural. Hip hop? Women with shoulder pads? Video games? Thankfully, Sam filled in. “People were still barely acknowledging that AIDS wasn’t some gay disease that you can catch by getting sneezed on.” Sam sighed. “It wasn’t a good time to come out. I didn’t particularly want to deal with all the drama of coming out in high school, so it wasn’t until after college that I told my parents.”

Sam took a deep breath. “It was the scariest thing I’ve done in my life, bar none.” His hands gripped the steering wheel, and Steve slipped a hand over to rest on Sam’s thigh. “We just … never talked about that stuff in the family, growing up. Sure, our pastor had his opinions, but in our house, it was my ma who really mattered. I wanted her approval so much.” 

Steve nodded, thinking back to Darlene’s gentle but firm disapproval when she found him chopping the potatoes wrong. “So what happened?”

Sam smiled. “When I told her, she just walked over and hugged me, told me that I was always her boy, no matter what.” Steve entwined his hand with Sam’s right and gave him a reassuring, happy squeeze. He’d like to believe that if his ma was alive she would have been supportive, too. Heck, she probably figured as much, given his stature and how he hung out with Bucky all the time. 

“Your mom is amazing.”

“Yeah.” Sam paused and swallowed. “Though it was harder to get her to understand why I decided to enlist.” Sam smiled ruefully at the green Toyota just ahead of them. “I’d always wanted to help people, and I was going the pre-Med route in college. She thought I was going to be a doctor. Surgeon, maybe.” 

Steve tried to picture Sam as a doctor. It would have been a good look on him. “So why’d you join?”

Sam shrugged. “9/11 happened, and I was looking at 5 years of med school, or 2 years of PT training.” Sam gave Steve a small smile. “Plus, you know. Who doesn’t want to fly planes and jump out of them? Some of us even have the brains to wear a parachute.”

Steve chuckled at the joke, worn through retelling into something old and famiiliar, and sent over the expected reposte. “Why wear a parachute when I know you’re gonna catch me?”

This launched another small slap fight, but finally Steve sat back. “We both know that we joined because we’re adrenaline junkies who like charging into danger.” 

“Yup,” Sam replies with a pop of his lips. It’s easy to joke about this with Sam, because they both know it’s about so much more than that. The sense that you’re part of something bigger. The focus of the mission and the faith that it’ll all work out. The camaraderie that comes from going through so much with the same group of people that everyone’s edges were abraded to the point that they fit together like jigsaw puzzles. Sam’s fingers subconsciously curled into the gesture that he makes whenever he thinks about the Pararescue motto, and Steve squeezed his hand in response. That Others May Live. 

“Your mom didn’t like that you joined?” Steve had to ask, thinking back to Sam’s ferocity this morning. Thinking back to Bucky frowning every time Steve snuck away to an enlistment center. 

Sam nodded. “At the time, I didn’t understand, but now that I look back at it … well, she was 13 when they shot Dr. King and Uncle Barry got the draft. Vietnam.” Steve searched his memory -- there wasn’t an Uncle Barry at last night’s dinner, but he remembered Bucky’s shaking hands and sullen frown when he’d gotten his draft papers.

Sam continued, “So when I enlisted, she asked me point blank why I wanted to fight for a country that has done nothing for us, and for an Air Force that would force me to lie about who I am.” At Steve’s questioning look, Sam clarified. “This was at the height of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

Steve nodded. Steve remembered the stifling silence that chafed at the Howlers, until Monty mentioned his chap back home, and Dernier laughed and slapped him on the back and told him about his wife. “So for all the years you were in — your training, your tours — you didn’t tell anyone?”

Sam frowned. “It was a weird situation of who knew, who guessed, and who might report it and get me discharged. For example, I figured that Riley had to know, because I wanted to be able to trust each other in the air. He was fine with it, but if he wanted to, he could have reported me and gotten me a dishonorable discharge. It didn’t even have to be on purpose -- if he let it slip at some point and someone else heard and decided to do something about it...” Sam shrugged. “Even now, some of my Air force buddies don’t know.” And then, Sam got a faraway look in his eyes. “Hmm. Guess everyone’ll know after the 10th.”

“Yeah.” This time, Steve didn’t offer to cancel the press conference, now that he knew the source of the fire burning in Sam’s voice. He’ll just do what Bucky did whenever Steve went out spoiling for a fight after a day of being ignored and dismissed — he’s gonna stand by his man. “I can’t wait to see what Jameson leads with.” Maybe this would be a case where the media could be a blessing. “Captain America dating Falcon, Bi Bi Birdie?”

Sam laughed and shot him a look that warmed Steve all the way to his bones. “Thanks. Pretty sure I’m not going to make the headline.” Then, after a pause, “Mom’s better about it now, but at the time, I felt like the two sides of me were at war with each other — my family didn’t understand why I wanted to join the Air Force, and the Air Force didn’t understand why I liked men.”

Steve nodded. Sam kept his eyes glued to the road and continued in a tight voice, “It felt like I was being only half a person in each place.” Sam’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “And when Riley died…”

“Pull over, Sam.” Steve nodded at the signs pointing to Wilmington. “Let’s switch.”

“I’m fine, Steve.” Sam said through gritted teeth. “I don’t get flashbacks every single time I mention Riley’s name, I’m not…”

“It’s not about that,” Steve said, carefully looking out the window and not at Sam’s hands on the steering wheel. “I said I’d take over after you get us through the horrors of New Jersey, and look, it’s Delaware now.”

Beside him, Steve heard a small huff. “Okay, yeah.”

They pulled off at an exit right after the Delaware bridge. Steve dragged Sam into a quick cuddle by the side of the car, then fed him some food from the basket of Darlene snacks. By the time Steve slipped into the driver’s seat, Sam was back to good spirits, knoshing on an apple turnover. 

“So, this Friendsgiving we’re going to…”

Sam smiled as he licked his fingers. “Yeah, it’s a LGBT Veterans group. Started out as an OutServe chapter, but now it’s just a bunch of friends.” He started idly picking through the other baked goods in the basket. “You’d like it — there’s even some people your age — Herb flew in the Korean war and always brings the most ridiculous pot roast.”

Delaware zooms by in the blink of an eye as Steve half-listened to Sam’s tales of outrageous friendsgivings past. Perhaps he should be glad that they found him in 2012 — sure, there was some media hubbub when he clarified that he’d loved both Bucky and Peggy, but it passed harmlessly. Whereas for Sam… Steve was so grateful that these groups exist.

“So what are we bringing?” Steve asked.

“We?” Sam waved his slice of banana bread imperiously, “I don’t know what you’re bringing, but *I’m* bringing winged sugar cookies. Dough is already in the fridge, 10 minutes to prep, 15 minutes to bake.”

“Hmm… do you think there’s time for me to make a rainbow jello mold in the symbol of the shield?”

Sam made a face. “I know you’re trolling me with this 1960s housewife stuff, but sure — we *definitely* have time to wait for jello to set, and we’re *definitely* the kind of classy people who bring TWO desserts.”

Steve laughed and gently pushed the car to 80 on the quiet stretch of Maryland. “How about this — I get us into DC 5 minutes early, and we stop to get some fruit for a fruit platter.” 

Sam quirked his eyebrow. “Lemme guess -- you’re going to make the gayest fruit platter your shield can hold.”

“Well, duh.”

The rest of the trip was spent arguing about the relative gayness of various fruits.

**Author's Note:**

> OutServe is now <https://modernmilitary.org/>, but I figured this happened ~2012.  
> And here's a cool photoblog I found of LGBT veterans: <https://www.joannsantangelo.com/proudtoserve> Please imagine Steve and Sam having Friendsgiving with some of these rad folks.
> 
> Me: I'll sign up for this and draw some cute SamSteve kissing uwu
> 
> Me, later: Hello co-worker, can I ask you about DADT experience in the air force in the early 2000s? For.... um... fiction writing reasons.  
> Coworker: Do you want to actually talk to some folks? My wife knows a bunch of them. Where did your fictional character serve?  
> Me: Pararescue...  
> Coworker: Hmm... there weren't a lot of women serving in PJ...  
> Me: The character is male...  
> Coworker: Wait, is this for...  
> Me: ::panics and absconds::
> 
> (but actually -- we didn't have time to set up a convo before the deadline, T__T )


End file.
